


The Coin

by Lady_Therion



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Rumbelle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:17:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5075737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Therion/pseuds/Lady_Therion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To bring back the one she loves, Belle will pay any price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Coin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CharlotteAshmore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlotteAshmore/gifts).



> 1\. This is a belated RCIJ gift for charlotteashmore who prompted a Quiet Minds AU with Dark Castle smut. Sorry you had to wait so long! I hope you like it.
> 
> 2\. Also, let's play pretend that Neal never dies and Zelena never happens upon the vault, shall we?

* * *

 

She could hear his screams from within her chambers. 

They rattled against the stone walls and echoed through the dark corridors. Night after night, it was more than Belle could bear…to know that Rumplestiltskin was in pain, and that there was nothing she could do for him. Not yet, anyway.

“I  _have_ to see him.”

Neal regarded her uneasily as he placed a tray of tea and porridge by her bedside. Even in the dim firelight, she could see he was exhausted. 

“He’s not himself, Belle."

The sight of darkened circles under his eyes added another layer of guilt to her conscience. The feeling only compounded when yet another gruesome howl rose from the dungeons below. Belle grit her teeth as she forced herself to sit up, her muscles aching with the effort. Neal put a hand to her shoulder—his touch gentle, but firm in its resolve. 

“Don’t even think about going down there,” he warned her. “It’s not safe.”

“I can’t just sit here and do nothing!” 

The hand on her shoulder moved down to grasp her fingers. It was the quiet intensity of Neal’s eyes—eyes so much like his father’s—that disarmed her. It was a look that Rumplestiltskin used whenever he had something of grave importance to say.

So she stilled, and she listened.

“When I was a kid…I used to tell people that my father was dead. Not just because I was angry, but because I believed it. As far as I was concerned, my father died the night he became the Dark One. It’s a  _curse_ , Belle. It takes away the man and leaves nothing but the monster. And right now, that monster is only a few hundred feet below us…and I don’t know what to do. “

Belle squeezed his palm, her heart breaking for him.

“Neal. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to, to be…cast out, alone, abandoned in a strange world. Well, maybe a just a little,” Neal smirked. “But your father  _loved you_. Surely, you must know that? He was willing to sacrifice  _everything_  to find you. Even another chance at true love.”

“I know," said Neal. "Or, at least I’m starting to. In Neverland, I could see…little changes here and there. They were a  _lot_ more than I thought he was capable of, really. I could see that he was truly sorry for what he did—even if he didn’t know how he could  _ever_  make it up to me. Honestly, I didn’t even know if he ever could. But when we came back to Storybrooke, I knew I was willing to try. It’s just...seeing him like this now makes me remember  _the way things used to be_. And I’m just that scared little kid again. So I…I can’t…” 

“Hey now,” Belle murmured. Without thinking, she pulled him into her arms and held him close, as though he were still a boy and not the young man who hardened his heart to the world.  

Neal stiffened at the unfamiliar contact, and for a moment Belle was afraid he would push her away. Instead, he relaxed and allowed himself be soothed. How long had it been since someone offered him comfort this way? How could he and his father be so different, and yet share so much of the same pain?

For that alone, Belle mourned for them both. 

Eventually, Neal pulled away, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t like people seeing me like that. I don’t even know why I…”

Belled cupped his face, hoping that he could see her earnestness. “There’s  _nothing_ wrong with showing you’re afraid.”

Neal smiled—a  _real_  smile, as shy and tentative as the dawn breaking over a dark forest. “I can see why my dad fell in love with you. How you’re able to see the good in someone like him—or even me—is just... it gives me hope. For me, for Emma and Henry.”

Belle didn’t know what to say to that. She had  _always_  believed that there was good in others, even when they didn’t see it themselves.

“Everything will be all right, Neal. You’ll see.”

“Yeah, well…” He rose from her bedside and pointed at the door. “Don’t make me lock you in, okay? I know you want to see him, but you have to  _rest_ first. Deal?”

He stuck out his hand.

Belle smiled as she shook it. “Deal.” 

Sometime later in the night, the howling faded away...though it did not, as Belle hoped, fade from her dreams. 

*******

**_One fortnight ago…_ **

It hadn’t taken Belle long to find the answers she needed to bring Rumplestiltskin back to the side of the living. Though of course, she never believed that he was truly dead. 

“What do you mean?” asked Neal.

“It’s the curse that keeps him alive,” said Belle. “I should have realized that before. He told me once that the darkness inside him would do anything to keep its host intact. If I’m right, it means that your father is…trapped…in some kind of limbo.”

“Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any weirder," said Neal. “So, uh, where do we start looking?”

“Only the place where your father always forbade me to go.” She winked over her shoulder as they climbed the most ominous-looking of towers. “He called it the West Wing. But  _I_ always knew it as the place where he loved to play with his potions as well as his uninvited guests. The stains were a _nightmare_  to get out of the cobblestones.”

“From the potions right?”

“Er…right.”

Belle's infallible memory of his workshop's most secret corners led her to find a hidden lever among the dusty shelves. This was where Rumple hid his most dangerous tome. 

The Grimoire of the Dark One.

Throughout the ages, it held the account of almost every Dark One save for the original. But more importantly, it held the key to Rumplestiltskin’s return. Or at least, Belle hoped it did.

“I don’t know how you’re doing that,” Neal had said to her.

“Doing what?”

“That,” he pointed at the open volume in her hand. “It practically _radiates_  evil. How can you read that anyway? Did my father teach you magic?”

“It’s not magic,” Belle insisted as she turned to the next page. What Neal said wasn’t untrue: Rumplestiltskin’s grimoire was so steeped in dark magick that even  _her_  weak, mortal senses could feel its power. “Just another language. Elder verse, actually. Also, I didn’t learn it from your father. I learned it from a book.” 

“ ' _Course_  you did.” Neal said, only half-joking but Belle swatted him anyway. “What exactly are you looking for? A spell?”

“No, not a spell.” She showed him the page of a hand drawn illustration. “It’s...there! Do you see?”

He looked over her shoulder. “A coin?”

“Yes. It's called the Coin of Hades. Also known as the  _Ferryman’s Wage._ According to legend, you can use it as payment to bring back one soul that has notperished of a natural cause.”

Neal’s eyes brightened. “Which means my dad qualifies…”

“Exactly.”

“So where do we find it? I’m guessing another epic quest is in order."

Belle turned the book this way and that, her lips repeating the various inscriptions written along the sides. She reached out, tracing the page at three different points, as though she were making a triangle.

A sudden blinding shimmer. 

And the coin appeared in Belle’s palm.

"I’m guessing we'll have to take a rain check on that epic quest, then." 

Belle held the coin up to her lantern. It was silver and about the size of a clamshell. On one side was the emblem of a rook, its wings etched in mid-flight. On the other side was another inscription.  _Debitum Naturae_. A debt of nature.

"Not quite," said Belle as she turned back to the grimoire. "There's still the matter of your father's vault." 

She pointed to the map.

*******

**_Now..._ **

_It wasn’t supposed to be like this_ , Belle thought as she made her slow descent into the dungeons. It had been several days since she left her room, and her full strength had yet to return. She had to pause every so often to catch her breath, and her muscles were too stiff from being too long abed. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?" said Neal. "We could always go back.”

“No.” Belle shook her head. “I’m ready. Really, I am.”

Neal didn’t say anything, though she could feel his doubt linger in the air between them as they continued down the spiraling steps. 

It was much too quiet by the time they reached Rumple's cell. The chilling howls had tapered off into pained sobs, and it was a wonder he hadn't screamed himself hoarse before then. Each cry spoke of every childhood nightmare come to life, every scar reopening to bleed a fresh wound. 

“He says things sometimes,” said Neal. "A lot of it doesn't add up. I tried talking to him before, but it didn't really do any good. Until last night." He held up an old leather ball. “I used to play with this a lot as a kid. I was surprised that he kept it around. So when I went to his cell to bring him his food, I showed it to him. I think it helped him focus." 

Belle smiled, holding up her chipped cup. Their chipped cup. "That's why you asked me to bring this." 

“Yeah. I'm glad that made it here with you.” 

She nodded. Being separated from Rumplestiltskin had only made her more protective of what they shared. So no matter where she went, she made sure that the chipped cup was always with her.

Through the bars of the heavy oak door, she could hear him weeping. “ _Forgive me...forgive me..._ ”

“Let me see him.” 

 _It wasn’t supposed to be like this._  

*******

**_One fortnight ago…_ **

“Are you sure about this?" said Neal. "We could always go back."  

Spending several hours treading through a dark and wintery forest wasn't exactly the adventure Belle always wished for. The snow was falling heavily with no signs of relenting. But they were so close!

“We're almost there.” 

The vault was exactly where the grimoire said it would be. Neal bushed off the snowdrifts, holding a torch to the ancient symbols. 

"There," Belle pointed the slot in the middle. "That's where we make our offering." 

"Like a Dark One ATM?" 

She stared at him blankly.

“Never mind. Look Belle, I hate to pull one of my dad's old lines. But all magiccomes with a you-know-what. I mean, did the grimoire say anything about what you'd have to pay to bring my father back? We're talking about a resurrection here. This is some serious stuff we're dealing with.”

“I…I know," said Belle. "But we'll gain nothing if we don't try.” 

Resigned, Neal moved aside as Belle knelt in the cold, hard ground. Taking the coin from her rucksack, she placed it in the center of the vault. Then she opened the grimoire and began the invocation. 

“I bring this coin to erase the debt. To tip the scale. To turn the tide…” 

Lightning struck in the far-off distance. 

“I bring this coin to erase the debt. To tip the scale. To turn the tide…”

The wind howled around them, blowing out the fire from their torches.

“I bring this coin to erase the debt. To tip the scale. To turn the tide...” 

Everything ceased all at once. 

A sharp pain ripped through her chest. Belle doubled over, the grimoire slipping from her hands as she clutched at her sides. It as though a spear been lanced through her ribs, the devastating agony of it robbing her of her breath.

At once, Neal was at her side.

“Belle?! Belle what’s wrong?”

Belle opened her mouth once, twice. She couldn’t seem to form any words. The pain dug deeper, until she felt her heart would split in two.

“Shit. I’m getting you out of here!”

But before Neal could do anything else, a strange and eerie clamor captured their attention. The vault began to shake, as though whatever was inside was pounding its way through. To their horror, a dark liquid spilled forth, staining the snow like a black pool of blood.

“Oh God,” whispered Neal. “What the hell is that?”

Through the dull haze of her torment, Belle could see that the liquid seemed to grow and then pool inwards, building higher and higher into some…some kind of twisted shape.

 _No_ , she thought, _a body._

There he stood: her true love returned from the void.

His golden eyes took in the sight of them both.

“ _Rumplestiltskin_ ,” Belle whispered, before slipping into oblivion.

***

**_Now..._ **

They found out much later that the cost of Hades’ Coin was manifold. When Neal went back to retrieve his father’s grimoire, he discovered that in order to bring a soul to the side of the living, one would have to sacrifice their own life in turn. If his father had been truly dead, Belle would have had to take his place. But because Rumplestiltskin was “in between,” Belle’s life force was only drained.

“It was still a close call,” said Neal, while she was still recovering. “You could have paid the full price you know. I don’t think my father would have appreciated you dying in his stead.”

Though she was relieved to have Rumplestiltskin nearby, all had yet to be remedied. No matter what Neal did, Rumple did not appear to know where he was or who they were. For Belle, that was the true cost of the coin. She may have drained her life force, but it was Rumplestiltskin’s _madness_ that was her real price.

“If anything happens,” said Neal. “I’ll be nearby. Just give a shout.”

Belle nodded. But before Neal turned away, he turned and kissed her cheek shyly. “You know, if things had been different for me and my dad…I think I would have liked to have you as a stepmother.”

Belle blushed and said a quick word of thanks. Then she straightened her back and entered the very cell that Rumplestiltskin had locked her in all those years ago.

_Everything was so different now._

At first, she could see nothing but darkness.

But as her eyes slowly adjusted, she could see that Rumplestiltskin had not been idle. Piles of straw were mixed with piles of golden thread, and as Belle stepped forward she could see Rumplestiltskin’s spinning wheel had been upended.

He must have broken it during a fit of rage.

Eventually, she found him. Crouched on the floor, with his hair hanging over his eyes. At once, she was reminded of her years spent in the asylum. The cold prison walls closing in on her as she waited and waited for _someone_ , though she didn’t know who.

“Rumple?”

His curls had lost their vibrant spring, and had turned lank and mangy. His clawed hands were raw and bloody, as were his forearms. And when he lifted his head to look at her, she could see that he had left scratches over his eyes as well.

Gods, he looked so _feral_.

“No, no,” he said, putting his hands over his ears. “There’s no one here… no one here.”

“Rumple…” She knelt before him, tentatively offering the chipped cup for him to see. He didn’t want to look at it, and seemed just as intent on looking at anything but her.

“I said there’s _no one here_!” he snapped and Belle couldn’t help but flinch. He would only ever raised his voice to her once, and that was not a memory that Belle wished to dwell on now. 

His eyes could not seem to focus.

“I know you,” he said, his voice trilling into that deadly sing-song tone. “I know you…because I killed you.”

He laughed, but it sounded so achingly empty.

She took his hands, warming his cold fingers with her own. “No Rumple, no. You didn’t kill me. You _saved_ me. You saved us all.”

“No,” He shrank back. “There are no heroes here. No _heroes_ to be found anywhere.” 

How could anyone be so _broken_?

Eyes blurring with tears, she reached out to him. He cowered from her, as though she were going to strike him. He could lash out at her, she knew. Leave her as raw and bloody as he did himself. But something in her heart told her that he wouldn’t—even in the grip of his hysteria. So instead, she stroked him as though she were calming a wounded beast, trying to convey through soft caresses how much she _missed_ him and how much she _loved_ him…even as he was now.

 “I…hurt you,” he whispered, eyes wide. “I hurt you and you fell.”

She leaned in closer. “I _fell_? What do you mean, Rumple?”

“It was the _witch,_ ” he snarled with unrestrained venom. “She said…she said you fell from the tower. No, no, no. This is all wrong. You can’t be real. You can’t!”

His breathing grew uneven. He was starting to panic.

Not for the first time, Belle cursed Regina’s name.

“Is that what she told you? Rumple, that was a _lie._ ”

Then suddenly, he leapt at her. Clutching at her throat before hauling her against the wall. Belle choked as he bared his teeth, her heart hammering inside her chest.

“Liar!” he cried. “Witch! You would deceive me by wearing her face? _Hers?!_ You aren’t worthy of it. You never will be!”

“Rumple,” Belle whimpered, trying to pry his hand from her neck. “Rumple, _please_ listen to me…”

“You _dare_ …”

“Rumple. I’m here. Let me help you remember.”

Miraculously, she was able to pry him off—thanking the gods that the days spent in the dungeon had drained him of his full strength. But before Rumple could think to use his magic, she leapt into his arms and kissed him. Kissed him as she had never done before. With tenderness and fear and absolute _desperation_. It was nothing at _all_ like their first kiss in the Dark Castle. But this time, he didn’t pull away from her fervor.

He looked at her strangely.

Then, a flicker of recognition…

Without waiting, she kissed him again. Long and deep, with tears spilling down her cheeks. A kiss filled with all the torment of having thought she had lost him forever, and the grief of them having lost so much time to begin with…

He pulled back.

“ _Belle_?”

“Rumple,” she cried softly, tenderly stroking his face. “Oh Rumple, you _remember_.”

He snatched her to him in an ironclad embrace. She returned it with more tears of joy. Then just as suddenly he swept her off her feet and carried her to the nearest pile of straw, setting her down as though she were made of pure glass. Then he kissed her again, this time with the sweet sting of his teeth. She keened in his mouth as he nipped at her bottom lip, and suddenly hoped that Neal wasn’t _as_ nearby as he promised.

“Belle,” he said again, peppering her face and neck with hot, little kisses. Gods, it felt like they were on _fire_ , consumed as they were by the heat of one another’s flesh. It felt like coming home. “Belle, you’re alive…”

“So are you,” she said, “I missed you so much.”

He didn’t notice when the tears began pouring down own his face until Belle leaned up and kissed them away.

“No tears, no tears,” she crooned. “Hush. We’re together now.”

Within moments, he tore away at her gown, hitching up her skirts to push down her drawers. He traced her exposed flesh with an eager hand and gasped into her mouth when he found the wetness pooling in between her thighs.

She was positively _dripping_ for him.

“I have to touch you,” he told her harshly, eyes blazing with hunger. “I have to touch you _so badly_.”

Then he plunged his clever fingers into her, making her sigh and mewl in rapture. She spreads her legs even wider for him, losing her sanity by inches. He massaged her inner walls as she grinded against him, then threw her head back when he rubbed a particular spot near the crest of her pubic bone.  

She arched her back, never having felt so wanton _in her life._

“More,” he growled. “ _Louder_.”

She said his name. Over and over again like a secret little prayer. Without warning, he pulled his hand away, making her moan aloud when he licked every last drop of her fluids. Then he threw her legs over his shoulders and burned her alive with that wicked, _wicked_ tongue of his.

“I’ve always wanted to do this here,” he said raggedly, his tongue raking over her swollen little bud. “On my table in the Great Hall. You would offer yourself to me…open those delicious legs of yours… and serve your glistening, sweet cunt along with my tea. Sometimes, there would even be a guest. Oh, _darling_ …your _taste…_ there’s nothing on earth that’s more divine… _”_

Belle screamed into her climax, the rush building to the most heavenly of crests. It washed through her entire being, making her clean and whole. He took her to that blissful zenith again and again, and each time she came down from the fall she found herself craving _more_.

She held back his hair, panting and desperate. “No more waiting. I want you, I want you.”

Rumplestiltskin pulled out his cock, thick and heavy and his hand. The both of them were sweaty and shivering with such insatiable _passion_ that it almost frightened her. Then he dove into her, all the way, until the both of them opened their mouths in wordless awe of their reunion.

God, it felt like such a _relief_ to be filled with him. To have him bury himself inside of her as though he would never leave.

His thrusts were swift and purposeful, driving her back against the straw with force. This was no time for chasteness, though she loved those moments too. It was as though each one were trying to shelter themselves in each other’s souls. Never in her _life_ had she felt so complete than when she was within.

“Yes, yes…” she heard him hiss. “This is...this is all I’ve ever wanted. You, and Bae and oh… _oh Belle_.”

He was so very close.

She grabbed his face, pulling him down for another kiss. “I love you, Rumple.”

They crested together, each one lost in a suspended moment of pure perfection. He came inside her then, and she hummed in pleasure as she felt the hot rush of his seed. His warmth ran through her inside and out, and eventually he collapsed. His forehead touching hers.

 “Forgive me Belle. I love you so much.”

“I forgive you, Rumple. I’ve forgiven you a long time ago.”

Then she held him close until dawn broke through the iron bars, the morning light shining upon them both.

 


End file.
